Work is For Chumps
by pyr0
Summary: Follows the events of Guilt Trip. In order to repay Cotton for the loss of his parrot, Jack Sparrow and crew begin working at the local cinema.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Completely refurbished with more or less the original parts.  
- Takes place after the events of _Guilt Trip_.  
- **_This style portrays Cotton's thoughts/words_**.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Pirates of the Caribbean_. Only this here…uh…stapler.

* * *

"A _cinema_?!" cried a less than perky Captain Jack Sparrow as he stormed into his cabin, Anamaria following closely on his heels. The dark woman sighed as Jack began to stomp his leather clad feet against the protesting floorboards. He shrieked again, emphasizing his mounting displeasure by launching an empty bottle at the warped door.

"I was going to refill that…"

"Anamaria!"

"Yes?"

"_Yes_? What do you mean _yes_?" He practically burst into flames at her simple answer, the swear-fest beginning anew, ending abruptly though when Jack invented a new word.

"Jack, if it fills your purse…"

His jaw hit the floor, "It most certainly is not a man-purse!"

"Don't change the subject."

"I…You…I…It's…"

"You bet."

He swore again, throwing open the door and greeting his nosy crew with the worst scowl known the humankind. Cotton glared back just as deadly, matching Jack's hateful look with vigor. Jack growled in the elder's face.

"Fine! I'll do it! Under one condition…"

All came to attention to hear Jack's announcement; the flamboyant pirate swaying gently with the steady rocking of his vessel, as he perched his hands on his hips and leaned forward.

"You all have to go with." He said with a flashy grin and boyish whisper, exposing several gold-capped teeth to the shocked spectators.

"Jack!" cried Anamaria, "You can't do that!"

"And why not, woman?"

Anamaria seethed, wound up her arm, and missed him by a long shot. Jack skirted away to the left, thinking he had escaped her fury this round, but instead of escaping, Jack received fury straight in the groin courtesy of a free swinging iron candle holder (courtesy of Cotton's bloody parrot's funeral!)

Jack crumpled to the deck like a sack of potatoes. Or dead parrots.

Cotton then had the nerve to grin, triumphantly at that, as he kneeled above the fallen captain. The captain, in question, shook from his pain-driven stupor and lunged, attacking Cotton with a verbal grenade.

"What? Lose your nads too?"

Cotton snapped upright, the sneer in Jack's wheezed words making his blood boil.

_**I hate you!**_

"Yeah?! Well so do I!"

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Thanks to SK101 (there are NO fangirls) and Admiral Norrington who reviewed the first time around…like two years ago.

Oh, sigh.

Every story has the obligatory "short chapter," so yeah. At least no one died.

* * *

"No! You can't make me go!"

Jack howled, kicked, scratched, bit, screamed, pulled, pushed, and slapped his way back to the secure handhold of the banister and yet again his crew, led by haughty Anamaria herself, followed him back, prying away his fingers and dragging him, screaming bloody murder, to the gangplank.

"Jack Sparrow, I _demand_ you _stop_ this behavior immediately!"

"No!"

"Jack!"

"NO!"

"JACK!"

"Coming, dear…"

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

The Cinema was less than Jack and the others had expected.

The concession stand, or at least what was left of it, settled on an incline; microwaves and poppers were bolted to the floor and, as a result of such fine craftsmanship, food constantly littered the dingy brown floor tiles. Gnats escaped the soda fountain anytime Doreen, the concession supervisor, groggily retrieved a drink for some pimply-faced, hormone-ridden teen. Boredom prone Lila ran the ticket stand with one or both hands tied behind her back. If it weren't for the constant twitching of her unsightly uni-brow and the fact that one of her thumbs was shorter than the other, Jack would've actually found her attractive.

Everyone and their cousin, with the proud exception being Captain Jack and his crew, had heard of (and feared) Stanley and his band of miscreants as they swept the floors, scavenging and picking their way through fallen debris and the occasional nickel or small children's toy left behind by careless moviegoers.

"I'm scared…" whimpered Jack, leaving the comforting warmth of Anamaria's side to seek solace beside a standee of "Booty Hunt." A lusty glint apparent in his dark eyes, Jack ogled the two beautiful babes on the front, allowing himself to escape into a rhapsodical fantasy world – that is, before Anamaria threw her boot at his head. Unbeknownst to them was Salty Steve McCoy, the seafaring cinema's second in command, as he sauntered down the popcorn riddled corridor to get a better look at the _Pearl_'s bedraggled crew.

"How are you all this morning?" He grinned, stepping in too close as his putrid breath washed over the group, bathing them in stink.

"Oh golly!"

Jack's eyes watered profusely and Anamaria began to sputter. Gibbs chortled between gulping air in through his mouth while Carl sneezed repeatedly at a high pitched frequency. Cotton, however, did the only thing he could do.

_**Dear God, man, what did you eat?!**_

Anamaria, ever vigilant as she was and wary of Cotton's persistently foul behavior, gave the signal for "The Ambush," alerting Carl and Tim the Younger to the situation at hand; jumping Cotton from behind and dodging his gaping, toothless mouth as he sought to cripple had never proved to be an easy task, but they succeeded, bringing the old sailor to his knees as he struggled still to scribble obscenities in his defense. Moments later they had subdued him completely, promptly relieving him of his marker and flashcards.

"Are you here for an interview?"

"A man of your –"

Anamaria elbowed Jack in the stomach, squelching any protests or rude comments; alright, more so rude, _obscene _comments.

"Yes we are, sir."

Salty Steve eyed Sparrow with contempt before turning his full attention to Anamaria. Jack glared back, wheezing and clutching his lower torso as he fought off the urge to curl into a ball and die – or just weep like a little girl.

"Anamaria…" he gasped, pitifully clutching at her hand, "My…"

"That's my name. Don't wear it out." She dutifully reminded, reaching out to slap her Captain on the back, but he shied away, cringing at the prospect of more pain.

"No touchee."

"Jack, quit acting like a baby."

"I'm scared."

"I know you are, but suck it up or you won't get this job."

"Jack's brain nearly fell out of it's cage as his rum-clouded mind finally broke free of the drink induced rust, the wheels creaking to life for the first time in, well, a very long time. Fortunately for the sly captain, Anamaria had failed to notice the devious smirk that had sprouted on his tanned visage, cinnamon eyes sparkling brighter as Steve led the villain to the upstairs office.

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	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"So, Mr. Sparrow," began McCoy once they were free from prying ears, "Is this your first job?"

Not one to think before speaking or before doing anything else, Jack blurted, "Well, as a matter of fact, I worked primarily in pillaging."

"Pillaging?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Anything else?"

Jack frowned, imagining a skill such as pillaging to be a given.

_No matter. There is plenty where that came from_.

"And killing…"

"Ah, killing, _killing_!" crowed Steve, appearing rather joyous at the mention of such a macabre subject, "Good for relieving stress, especially if it is a customer!"

Jack cringed, knowing full well that the Almighty himself wouldn't come to his aid.

"That'll do, Jack!" laughed Steve, patting him on the shoulder, "You've got the job."

_NOOOOO! Think, brother!_

"Wenches."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I adore wenches, your lordship, if you know what I mean."

Silence won the men over for a moment as Steve, who happened to be a rather stupid ignoramus, brayed loudly, throwing back his head as if he were laughing at something that was actually funny.

This was not.

This, ladies and gentlemen, was Captain Jack Sparrow's pathetic attempt to bail himself out of a rather large and exceptionally muddy hole.

"Well, Mr. Sparrow, that _appreciation_ of yours is nothing to be ashamed of. Why, in my prime, I was a rather fetching chaser of tail myself. Mmm, yes…"

Jack gaped in unrequited horror at the man before him, part of his soul freezing over just as the other shouted in triumphant awe, blinded by the sheer awesomeness he alone saw in him. This man – no, this _manager_ – had no care whatsoever as to what Jack had done and was doing and was about to hire the dirtiest, foulest, sexiest pirate in all the seven seas. Jack giggled maniacally as McCoy gave him a quick smile before resuming the employment paperwork.

_Yes_, thought he, rubbing his beaded goatee with unmatched glee, _this is going to be a fun month_.

* * *

**Author's Note: **James Norrington = yumm-o.  
This AN brought to you by the Random Fluff and Nonsensical Beings Committee.


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